


hungry for your love

by evcndiaz



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: (No beta), Crack, Crack Treated Semi-Seriously, Getting Together, M/M, Suicide Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 19:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30127398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evcndiaz/pseuds/evcndiaz
Summary: prompt: "who’s gonna write a fanfic where chris is not cooperating with buck and eddie accidentally says “listen to your dad”?"or; breadsticks are a metaphor for love and boning
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 659
Collections: Finished 911 Stories I Love





	hungry for your love

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this post (idk how to hyperlink so y'all are just going to have to deal with the ugly copy/pasted link i'm afraid): https://richietoazier.tumblr.com/post/646027531021123584/whos-gonna-write-a-fanfic-where-chris-is-not
> 
> one day, i'm going to rework this trope and it is going to be full of angst but today is not that day.
> 
> RE: SUICIDE HUMOR TAG: Eddie (in his embarrassment) contemplates jumping off the Golden Gate bridge. It's framed as a joke, as this is a very light-hearted fic, but please bear this in mind as you proceed!
> 
> i wrote this in an hour please just....ignore any typos lol

Eddie is going to jump off a bridge.

Seriously. He’s about three seconds away from driving to the Golden Gate, climbing up on the ledge, and ending it all.

The silence that hangs over the fire station is not awkward, necessarily, so much as it is tense. Hen is still sitting with her fork halfway to her mouth, eyes wide. Chimney, wisely, has continued to shovel food in his mouth because if he doesn’t acknowledge the _thing_ in the air, it’s not there.

It’s a good plan. Eddie is very fond of that plan. Unfortunately, that ship sailed for him the minute he froze like a pillar of ice once he replayed what he’d said.

Christopher looks between the him and Buck, arms crossed over his chest. “So, is that a no?”

Buck recovers first. He clears his throat and ruffles his hair. “Still a no. Sorry, kid.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Chris says, because he’s sounding far too much like a teenager for Eddie’s liking these days. “Fine.”

He gets up from the table and makes his way to the sofa where his untouched textbooks are still spread over the upholstery. Bobby and Athena exchange a look, the kind married people exchange when they’re having an entire conversation with each other, before turning their gazes on him.

The Golden Gate is looking better and better, but Eddie soldiers on because he’s nothing if not resilient.

He keeps his eyes on his empty plate as he reaches for the breadsticks, then holds the bowl out. “Breadsticks, anyone?”

**_Ten Minutes Earlier_ **

“Please.”

“No.”

“ _Please_.”

“No, Chris.”

Buck rolls his eyes and shoots Eddie a _please come help me_ look across the loft. Eddie buries his smile in his water bottle and gives him a look right back: _your idea, you deal with it._ Because it had been Buck’s idea, after all, to have Carla drive Chris by the station on a school night. Apparently, Chris had revealed to Buck a few nights ago, half asleep and practically drooling on his shirt, that he feels like he never sees the 118 anymore, and that they’re always rushing off and saving people’s lives, and leaving him behind, and he just misses them is all. And since neither he nor Buck are heartless monsters, Chris’s revelation had positively broken both of their hearts. So, Buck cleared it with Bobby, and Carla was always happy to see everyone, so the plans were set. Chris broke out into a huge grin the minute he saw everyone, and everyone swarmed in to give him the biggest, warmest hugs he’d ever had.

It was perfect, and heartwarming, and sweet, and Eddie loves his kid so much he’s surprised the sheer force of it hasn’t killed him yet. But then Chris got a look at the new PlayStation plugged into the TV in the loft and he went from being happy to see everyone, to being happy to see the shiny new console.

“Can I play?” he’d asked Buck, those big eyes wide enough to melt even the coldest heart.

“Not until after dinner and homework. I’ll bring it home if you don’t get to play here.”

“But I wanna play _now_.”

Buck flicked his nose. “We’re about to eat.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“ _Pleeeeease?_ ”

“ _Nooooo_.”

Yeah.

It’d been entertaining the first few times, but now Eddie was ready to bang his head against the fucking wall. Listen. _Listen_. He’s tired, okay? It’s been a long day, and yes, he is so damn happy to see his kid because he loves him, and he’d spend every moment of his life with him if he could, but… he’d just enjoy the moment a lot more if Chris wasn’t _whining_. Because, see, Eddie’s seen this move before, the _I’m going to whine until I get my way_ move, and he’s just not having it today.

So he thinks he can be excused for the way he drops his face into his hands, groans, and says, “Christopher Adam Diaz, that’s _enough_. Stop whining and listen to your dad. Finish your dinner, do your homework, and then game after we check your math over. Got it?”

Eddie didn’t really hear what he’d said until everything just sort of… stopped around him. The conversation, the sound of utensils clinking against porcelain plates (except for Chimney). Everyone just looked at him, then Buck, then back at him, and Eddie was about to ask, _hey, guys, what'd I miss?_ But then he looked at Buck, and saw the pink flush on his cheeks, and the way his mouth had fallen open in surprise, and he replayed the last few minutes, and yeah.

Eddie is ready to jump off a bridge.

**_The Present_ **

Eddie puts his arm down. “No breadsticks for anyone? Fine by me.”

He grabs two, puts them on his plates, and starts shoving chunks of bread in his mouth because he’s a human disaster and he doesn’t know how to address the fact that he sees his best friend as his son’s other parent. He aggressively rips off another chunk of bread for good measure.

Eddie can’t even make himself look at Buck, who’s gone completely still beside him, because he doesn’t know what he’ll see. He knows Buck is interested in men—he casually came out to him years ago, and Eddie was fine with it and proud of him because he loves Buck and has loved Buck pretty much since the day he met him (because people being mean is kind of _thing_ for him, whatever). But just because Buck is interested in men doesn’t mean he’s interested in _him_.

But Eddie is _very_ interested in Buck. He’s not even sure about the whole gay/bisexual/sexuality thing himself, but he’s sure about one thing: he’s head over heels in love with the cute boy beside him. He wants to kiss him, and cuddle with him, and do dirty, _dirty_ things to him. It’s a problem, but it’s _his_ problem. It was only _ever_ supposed to be his problem, but then he saw Buck with his son, and he called Buck Chris’s dad because they're eighteen hours into a twenty-four and he's exhausted, and now there’s a chance Buck will never want to see him again. _Now_ , Buck might just stay away for good, and then Christopher will cry, and Christopher will hate him, and then Chris won’t grow up with any strong parental figures in his life because he will have pushed him away, and then Christopher will end up on the streets somewhere with a needle in his arm all because _Eddie couldn’t keep his mouth shut_ , and then—

Buck’s hand clamps around his bouncing thigh underneath the table. Eddie looks up, startled, but Buck is already staring back at him, face flushed but… _happy_.

Buck clears his throat. Bites his already bitten lip and says, with far more emotion than is strictly necessary, “I want some breadsticks.”

Across the table, Chimney drops his fork on his plate. “Alright, nope, that’s it.” He pushes back away from the table. “I’m out.”

Eddie can’t take his eyes off Buck. Off his pretty face, and his earnest eyes, and the way his gaze keep darting down to his mouth. Everything else in the room fades except for him.

“You want breadsticks?” Eddie asks. He hates how gentle his voice sounds, how soft and awed, but he can’t help it because _Buck wants breadsticks_.

“I want _all_ the breadsticks,” Buck confirms. He emphasizes his point with a squeeze to Eddie’s thigh.

“Okay,” Athena says. “What the hell?”

Hen whispers, “It’s like some weird mating ritual.”

“Everyone shut up,” Chim hisses, “I’m watching.”

Tentatively, Eddie wraps his hand around Buck’s where it’s still resting on his thigh. He can’t help the little smile that dances across his lips. He’s so pathetic, it’s almost _painful_. He clears his throat. “I don’t know anything about… breadsticks. Or cooking.”

Buck laughs. He shakes his head. “That’s okay. I can teach you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The look Buck gives him, then—heavy, warm, and sensual. If they weren’t in the middle of all their coworkers, Eddie would drag him in and kiss him till their lips fell off.

A beat passes, then, “Okay, just to be clear,” Chimney says from the couch, “Breadsticks is a metaphor for… what, exactly? Love?” He glances down at Christopher and covers his ears. “S-E-X?” He stage-whispers.

“You know, I don’t think that’s any of our business.” Bobby stands up, Athena right beside him. “I think I’m going to go outside for exactly fifteen minutes. Who wants to join me?”

“Please, God.” Hen ruffles Chris’s hair. “Come on, kid, Let’s give your _dads_ some space to talk, huh?” 

Neither he nor Buck speak until the loft is clear. They can still hear their friends and family making noise down below, but this moment is theirs to soak in.

Buck looks at him, amused and gentle. His hand still hasn’t left his thigh.

“You’re stupid,” Buck says fondly.

Eddie shoves him lightly, just because he can. Just because now he knows he has permission to touch. “Oh, shut up, it was an accident.”

“An accident.” Buck snorts. “Okay.” His eyes darken when Eddie unconsciously licks his lips. He says softly, “Best mistake you ever did make.”

“You wanna kiss me, Buckley?”

“ _Please_.”

It’s the broken, tender way he says it that has Eddie leaning in. The taste of him is overwhelming, like diving headfirst into icy waves. He brings a hand up to the back of Buck’s neck, tilts his face until he’s just right, and ah, _there_. That’s better. Buck sucks his lip into his mouth. Bites down and swallows Eddie’s hiss. They’re still seated beside each other at the dinner table, bodies twisted awkwardly, but it’s perfect. It’s so damn perfect.

Buck pulls back first, his eyes still closed like he’s trying to memorize the weight and feel of this moment, and he whispers, “I can’t wait to fall in love with you.”

The simple honesty of it knocks the wind right out of Eddie’s lungs. He has to swallow a few times before he finds his voice. “Right back at you.”

“Yeah?” Buck kisses him again, gentle pecks that send shivers down his spine.

“Yeah.”

Eddie tilts his head to the side so Buck can get at his neck. They are quickly descending into Not Safe for Work territory, but he can’t be bothered to care because holy shit, he’s wanted this for so long, and now he can have it. Fuck.

“Wait.” Eddie forces the word out. “There’s just one thing. One thing I need to know.”

Buck drags his lips from his skin. “Anything.”

"I just need to know: what are breadsticks a metaphor for, exactly?”

Buck blinks at him for a beat, then another, and Eddie is starting to think he should have just kept his mouth shut for the second time tonight, _nice going Diaz_ , but then Buck tips his head back and laughs from deep within his chest, and Eddie decides that there are far worse mistakes to make.

**Author's Note:**

> @evcndiaz on tumblr!


End file.
